


Written in the Stars

by JustAnotherUnderstudy



Series: This Should Totally Be A Thing [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, At least if you've seen the movies, F/M, No Spoilers, Older Woman/Younger Man, Post-SPECTRE, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:36:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8307056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherUnderstudy/pseuds/JustAnotherUnderstudy
Summary: Olivia Mansfield wasn't born with a soulmark, which was just fine with her. Having one appear seemingly overnight when she was a mature woman was a minor annoyance. Finding out who had the matching mark was something she'd just rather pretend never happened.





	

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so, I had to write this. I don't know why. It just came to me after reading all the awesome Bond/Mansfield fics. Of all the Bonds over the years, Craig is my favorite. And of all the M's, Judi Dench has always been my favorite. Of course, Judi Dench could play a rock and I'd love rocks all the more for it. :)
> 
> I also apparently have a kink for age differences, it would seem. lol. I actually found this ship when reading through some Older Woman/Younger Man stories here. 
> 
> Anyway, here's my contribution to this very lovely ship. :)
> 
> (Disclaimer: It's been ages since I've seen any Bond movie. And I've never been to the "South of France.")

Olivia Mansfield never had a soul mark. It wasn't uncommon. Many people didn't, and even less than those chose to ignore their mark simply because it was a chore to find the match. Fate was a bitch that way.

When she was ready to hang up her 00 status, the only one in MI6 not surprised she'd lived to do so (misogynistic bastards), she found a good man who worked in the Home Office, got married, and set about to live a far more ordinary life than she had previously. She had two children who grew up like other wealthy children, with a nurse, followed by the best public schools.

She was proud of them, and eminently thankful that when she put her foot down when M asked her if she wouldn't mind him having a look at their potential that the man listened. Of course, threatening to split him from cock to throat with a Bowie knife if he went near either of her children might have persuaded M that he ought to play nice with her. And maybe, when it came time for him to retire, that threat, which was an absolute promise, along with her service record, was what caused him to toss her name into the hat for his replacement.

It made her very proud even if she didn't get picked, though she had no doubt she would. She never doubted herself. (If she did, she'd have been killed a long time ago.) This act, however, brought about a revelation she simply had no time for nor interest in.

"You have an unusual mark on your left buttock."

She was sitting in a chair in the doctor's office. Her physical this year was far more thorough but no other physical had ever mentioned it.

"Really."

It wasn't a question. She could tell by the look the doctor gave her when he told her exactly what he thought it meant. She hoped to God that he wasn't trying to tell her he was sporting the same mark.

"You've never noticed it before?"

He seemed surprised.

"I don't spend time looking at my arse."

She didn't. She knew who she was, even physically. Spending time dwelling on her height, her weight, her age, wrinkles, or grey hair, was time wasted. She took good enough care of herself that she was probably the most fit person to ever be considered for M's position, and when it came down to it, that was all that mattered.

The corner of the doctor's mouth turned up in a cross between a smirk and amusement.

"I've seen your mark before."

He pulled a pad of paper and a pen from the corner of his desk and began to draw what she thought must be the mark. It started with a curl and ended shortly in something that resembled a dagger.

Olivia raised her brows slightly and sighed dramatically to express her disinterest.

"I saw it a few years ago during another physical on a man who works for MI6."

The doctor seemed to believe that Olivia would find this information important. She needed to make sure he understood she had no interest in learning who had the matching mark. So she narrowed her eyes and leveled her most threatening gaze.

"Doctor, I am a married woman and fraternization is disallowed in this organization."

The doctor, however, seemed oblivious to both the visual threat and her words. Instead he chuckled as if it was all amusing to him.

"Yes, well, I would think with your experience you would know just how little any of that means to some people."

The next look, the one that truly threatened bloody murder, worked better than the first and the doctor clamped his lips together tighter than if she'd sewn them shut.

When she reviewed her file later, after taking the helm at MI6, she smiled shrewdly at the lack of mention of the mark in her medical report.

\-------

She'd stared at the picture of the beautiful brunette far longer than necessary. Vesper Lynd was dead. And M shouldn't care, not in the least. And it wasn't that she cared. Not really. Was it?

"Damn it all to hell."

She closed the file with a muttered curse. It was over. Bond had lived, and proven he was worthy of his 00 status. That should be the end of it.

Only it wasn't.

She couldn't rightly say how she knew Bond had lied about Vesper meaning nothing, but she'd known immediately and not just based on her life experiences. Just as sure as she'd known he'd had feelings for her before she'd been witness to them.

But none of that made sense, so she pushed those thoughts aside, grabbed up her purse and coat, and left the office for home. As she rode home in the back of the car she tried to console herself with the knowledge that it was enough he'd lived.

'Only to die at some indeterminate point in the future.'

She harrumphed at her melancholy thoughts. If anyone would live beyond his 00 years she suspected it would be Bond. God forbid he ever knew, but Bond was too much like M herself. Brash, overconfident, invincible. She'd been told many times those traits would get her killed, but they'd kept her alive. The people around her, though, that was a different story, a story of regrets she would carry with her always, all the way to her grave. Only the knowledge of regret leading to stupid decisions that would get more people killed saved her from drowning herself in her guilt.

Bond would live, and one day he'd probably sit in her chair and face his own mirror image in some young man or woman.

The thought made M smile viciously.

\----

"Here's the wire, ma'am."

Tanner placed the copy of Bond's profile on her desk then quietly left the office, pulling the door behind as he went.

M stared at it, her thoughts mocking her. She worked to keep all her agents safe. And she'd gone and had the best killed. An oversimplification, to be sure, but how everyone viewed it nonetheless.

Regret was unprofessional. Regret would only get more people killed. She'd long ago learned to cut off any feelings from her job. But it didn't mean his face hadn't haunted her dreams.

But the worst part was the knowledge deep inside that he wasn't dead at all. It was the same gnawing ache she'd felt when she knew his feelings for Vesper ran far deeper than he admitted.

Utter nonsense, she told herself. Just her foolish hope in the completely impossible from her best agent.

With a deep breath and an internal berating, she opened the file. Bond's face stared up at her. His face serious, his eyes sharp, seeing things only the best in the field saw, his jaw set and strong.

She quickly turned the photograph over and began to read the description on the next page that had been sent out in the search for Bond's body. Height, weight, general physical description, significant scars and marks.

M's throat tightened and it was suddenly all but impossible to breathe. At the bottom of the list of knife and gunshot wounds and various childhood stitches and broken bones was a drawing of a mark that was located on his left buttock. It started in a curl and ended in a shape like a dagger and looked exactly like the one on her...M stood and threw the file across the desk away from her. She began to pace, muttering expletives and promising to kill the bastard for having the same mark. Yes, kill, because now she knew for certain that the feeling she held onto, the one that told her he wasn't dead, was there for a reason.

Three months later, however, when she saw him in her lounge, she only demanded, "Where the hell have you been?"

She never told him even as he held her in his arms and the life bled out of her. But she was honest when she said she'd got one thing right. It was him, the only right thing she'd done.

And she never burdened him with the truth. It would have been too much for him, especially now.

\-----

To her great surprise, she woke in hospital two weeks later. She'd been in a medically induced coma after a long surgery.

"James?"

She asked Mallory who was sitting at her bedside, using just his name. She'd already lost everything, what did it matter now if Mallory was proven right.

But the new M only shook his head.

"The two of you are too close, you know that. He views you as family."

"James is a strong man, but I agree. It would be better if he didn't know."

If he knew, he'd feel she was his responsibility. And England needed him far more than she.

'Liar.' Her heart whispered.

At least part of her was still honest.

\-----

She retired to the South of France. Cliche, she knew, but it was so cliche that no one would ever believe it. Her villa on the Mediterranean was wide open in a way her life had never been. She was Margaret Atwood, widow of an American stockbroker. Childless...and that hurt like hell...she had come for the sun and the warmth due to her arthritis. She walked with a cane, and it wasn't a prop. Her physical trial at Skyfall had taken it's toll. She was still strong, but mental acuity didn't always translate into the physical.

Most days she fell asleep on her sofa, the sea breeze flowing across her from the open windows. It was nothing if not relaxing. She'd wake an hour later and take a stroll along the walk as she couldn't maneuver the sand by herself anymore.

Today was different, she knew it before she opened her eyes. Today someone was in the room with her. She adjusted her body, pretending she was only shifting in her sleep, and tried to get a read on the person's location in the room. The breeze blew in and a scent of cologne assaulted her senses like a flood. She caught her breath and slowly cracked one eye open.

"James."

The look he gave was neither hate nor love. She'd expected the former if he ever found out she was alive.

"How did you find me?"

"It's what I do for a living. Or did you forget that?"

She reached out for the table to help her into an upright position. James remained in his seat, just staring at her.

"I may be a doddering old woman, Bond, but I still have my memory."

Her tone had a bite in it that she hadn't used in ages and it made her feel almost human again.

"Why are you here?"

"You know why I'm here."

He gave her a look that was a cross between something that would melt rock and something that would melt a woman's inhibitions. Then he tilted his head and turned his eyes toward her left hip.

"You looked? You cheeky bastard. When?"

Olivia felt the usual ire she felt when he'd gone too far, yet again. It was hot under her skin and it nearly transported her back into her office at MI6.

"I looked when Kincaid went to lead Tanner and the medical team to you."

"In the chapel?"

James closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. When he spoke again his voice was barely a whisper.

"I could feel you dying. I felt the life leaving you and I couldn't understand why."

James eyes became unfocused and Olivia knew he was reliving that moment. She wanted him to stop. She didn't want to think of what he'd suffered.

"I kissed you on the forehead and at first I thought it just hurt because I had lost so many people, but I could feel the life eke out of you until there was nothing left. Then I knew. And I knew where to look."

He wouldn't look at her. She couldn't see his eyes as he stared at a spot on the floor. He took a few more deep breaths before he continued.

"It was covered in your blood. I had to wipe it off to see."

He shifted in his seat but still didn't look at her.

"Your skin was so cold."

she barely heard him and wondered if he'd meant to say it aloud or if he was now so lost in his thoughts he no longer knew what he was saying.

"I thought it fitting that I should learn the truth there in the spot where my parents were wed. And even more fitting that I should lose you there."

He looked up now and his gaze was fierce.

"How long had you known?"

The swift transition from his defeated posture to this accusatory one caught her off guard. She'd been out of the game too long, she chastised herself.

"Did you know when you met me? Did you know when I became 00? Is that why you fought it? So you wouldn't lose face, wouldn't be forced to step down? Was this about the power?"

As James spoke he became more and more angry. He gripped the arms of the chair and leaned forward. Olivia felt for all the world as if she was on the receiving end of an interrogation.

But she held her own and lifted her chin in defiance of his wrath.

"I only learned of it after you'd been declared dead."

His lips quirked in an unasked question.

"It was in the dossier we sent around to help in the recovery of your body."

He studied her intently but didn't relax.

"You mean after you had me shot."

Olivia rolled her eyes.

"Really, James."

That had been resolved long ago. She knew he meant it to create another problem and she thought briefly that she should allow it simply to move the conversation away from what they should be discussing.

Instead she reached next to the sofa for her cane and used it to help herself stand up.

"Where are you going?"

There was anger behind his question, yet the question itself told Olivia enough. He already knew the answer and he was incensed that she was leaving when he wanted to have an argument with her.

"You know perfectly well where I am going. I'm sure you've been watching me for some time now, studying my routines, deciding when was the best time to make your move. That is what you do, isn't it?"

She narrowed her gaze at him. Her small frame hardly towering over his seated form, yet she could see she'd had the desired effect when he looked away from her.

She walked around the coffee table and headed for her front door. She checked her pocket to make sure her house key was there then she opened it and walked out.

She didn't expect him to follow her and she wasn't disappointed. He'd sit in the lounge and sulk, she figured. She smiled at the thought because she could understand why. It had been too long since the two of them had had a good row. The last really good one, and possibly her favorite, was when he'd threatened to eject her from his car.

She chuckled quietly as she walked along.

Damn, she missed that.

She considered how they used to argue and thought how she'd always assumed that's what caused her to miss that he might share her soul mark. The romantic books and movies made about such things always were filled with couples who felt an immediate emotional attraction, a closeness, and fondness for each other that ended up as signs they were soulmates.

She and Bond had no such thing. They had clashed from the beginning. Their arguments were now possibly the thing of MI6 legend. And yet, she had to admit, even before she'd learned of his soul mark, she'd known she was far more devoted to him than she had been to any other agent. So many times she really should have censured him and yet she didn't.

But if that was the case, if she had favored him due to this ridiculous mark, she hated the damn thing even more than she had before.

As she headed back to her house she found she wasn't nearly as relaxed as usual.

Damn the mark.

Damn Bond for finding her.

She was surprised to find her front room devoid of James but she didn't hope so well for any other room. She found him in her kitchen where he'd laid out a light meal of sandwiches and cut fruit. The tea kettle sounded as if it was near boiling.

She glared at him but she sat down at the table as he pulled the kettle off the heat.

They ate in silence, James was either incredibly hungry or wanted to make sure there were no further interruptions in the fight he wanted to start with her. Olivia readied herself for it, but was surprised when his fist question was asked in a soft voice.

"How long have you had the mark?"

"Since shortly before I was appointed head of MI6."

He thought for a moment, and she allowed him. They'd come to verbal blows soon enough.

"What did your husband think?"

Olivia felt her emotions go in three different directions. Anger that James had brought her husband into this conversation. Sadness at the memory of what she'd lost. But it settled on the happiness of her life with Nigel. He had truly been the perfect match for her. How Fate could have thought there should be any other had always been among her reasons for hating the mark.

"He said that when I found the bloke to let him know and we'd have a three-way."

James seemed to choke on the air he was breathing.

"What?!?"

His eyes were wide with shock and Olivia couldn't help but have a good laugh at his expense.

"It was a joke, of course, you idiot."

James didn't look like he believed her and eyed her warily.

"He wasn't about to share me with anyone, nor I him."

She poured herself another cuppa and chuckled at James perturbation.

James glared at his own cup and Olivia suspected he would not be asking anymore questions at least for a while.

"What about you? When did yours show up? Were you born with it?"

James snorted and made a derisive face.

"Hardly."

He drank down the dregs of his tea and Olivia feared he'd throw the cup against the wall, his look was so fierce.

"It showed up later. After I was a grown man. After it didn't matter anymore."

"What do you mean 'it didn't matter anymore?'"

"I mean, I didn't need it. It was already too late by then. I'd already become who I am. No decent woman would want me, soul mark or no."

He swallowed audibly and finally set down the teacup. His hands were shaking and he leaned back in the chair to shove them into his pockets.

Olivia watched him. She knew she was no longer seeing her agent, no longer looking at the man she thought she knew, the one she'd helped create. In front of her was the young man who'd once allowed himself to dream of falling in love, marrying, having children, and making Skyfall into a happy and warm place.

Olivia controlled her emotions and waited, but then James whispered.

"It's how I should have known Vesper wasn't for real."

"No, James. Don't."

Olivia leaned forward and involuntarily reached across the table all but asking him to take her hand.

"Why not?"

He yelled and pushed back the chair and stood. Olivia felt the need to assure him.

"You loved her, I know that. You know I do."

James glared down at her, obviously angry that their mark had made her privy to his emotions.

"What do you know about anything? You had your happiness. You had love, children, everything everyone wants.

"Everyone I love dies. EVERYONE! And they don't succumb to cancer, or a heart attack, or even bloody pneumonia or old age."

The look he gave her would have brought a normal person to tears and Olivia knew in an instant it had been a terrible mistake to agree to Mallory's plan.

"I'm sorry, James."

What else could she say? And what more was there to discuss? She had shattered an already broken man, what kind of a person did that make her?

She wasn't sure where James wanted to go with their conversation. But she knew where it had to head. She needed to encourage him to go back to his life, back to where he belonged. She needed to find a way to make him believe there was someone out there who could give him what he needed, who could love him as much as she did.

Olivia closed her eyes. She had never admitted her love for him before.

"Was it from the moment we met?"

James words were quiet again. Olivia opened her eyes to find him leaning against the kitchen wall next to the window.

"Was what?"

"Your feelings for me?"

Olivia was taken aback, mostly because she'd never thought about it. But she realized now that she had an answer.

"No. Not from the beginning. At the beginning you were just another agent. Typically arrogant, pig-headed, and misogynistic."

James gave an undignified snort and Olivia smiled.

"It was slow. I don't think I even fully comprehended it until Mallory accused me of being sentimental about you. Then I got angry because it must surely have been the fault of the damned mark."

James sighed and pushed off the wall and rejoined her at the table before speaking again.

"I hate the damn thing."

His voice was resigned.

"As do I."

She smiled softly at him.

He looked up at her then glanced at her hand that was still on the table. He tensed and Olivia waited. Slowly he raised his hand and reached for hers. The moment they touched she felt the warmth she'd felt when he'd held her in the chapel. It had been brief as the life ebbed quickly from her, but it had brought her peace.

"I want my feelings for you to be mine, and mine alone. Not caused by Fate or the Gods."

She squeezed his hand. His words were an echo of her own thoughts.

"Did you feel it from the beginning?"

She thought she could handle his answer now. Earlier, she didn't want to know if the feelings for her they were caused only by their shared mark.

"Not likely."

He chuckled and squeezed her hand lightly.

"You weren't exactly what I expected. You were exactly what I like, however."

Olivia raised an eyebrow in question.

"You were commanding, you always refused to put up with my bullshit, and you were never afraid to give me a good bollocking if you thought I deserved it.

"But I resented you for not trusting me. So, no, I didn't care a whole lot for you at the beginning."

When he finished they both turned their eyes onto their joined hands.

"Maybe the story tellers have it wrong."

Olivia murmured her thought.

"Most likely. But I do know that I can often feel things you are feeling."

James took a deep breath before turning his eyes toward her. His gaze was both intense and pleading. She wondered what he was about to tell her.

"I knew when he died."

Olivia knew instantly that he was referring to Nigel's death.

"I didn't realize it at the time. I was so busy with work and I didn't know about the marks. I was overwhelmed with sadness and I had this insane thought that I should go to you. When I returned and learned your husband had died, I felt so confused. But it was the first time I'd considered how deeply you loved him and your children."

"I miss them all."

It ached deep inside that her children thought she was dead. She had always intended to be a better mother and grandmother once she'd retired. Of course, she'd also planned to be a better wife and travel the world with Nigel, giving him the time he'd never forced from her as she rose through the ranks at MI6. Now all of that was gone. And some days it felt as if she might as well have died during her 00 years.

"Olivia?"

She looked up at James. She realized he'd been saying something to her and she hadn't heard, too lost in her thoughts.

"Getting old, James. Sorry."

Something about that pained James greatly and Olivia felt the fear and terror from him. It didn't take too wild of a guess to figure out what it meant.

"Yes, I'm afraid you will be forced to lose me again."

She sighed and stared back at their hands. His grip was slightly tighter, as if holding tightly to her would somehow keep her with him longer.

"I'm sorry, James. But this is why I want you to go and make a life for yourself. If you retire you could take a station. There are plenty of young women out there who would be thrilled to have your attention."

James snorted.

"Young women."

The way he said it, as if the term was an offense, confused Olivia.

"What's wrong with a young woman? She could give you children. You can still have that life."

"Young women have no backbone."

He sighed as if she should understand what he was trying to say.

"Do you know why older men like younger women?"

Olivia rolled her eyes, but James jumped ahead before she could comment.

"Because they all but worship him. They do whatever the man asks. They don't argue or put up a fuss. And young women who like older men do so because he's got money enough to give her the easy life. So they go along and the man thinks he's perfect because no woman that age has the balls to tell him different."

He had a look of disgust on his face.

"There's a reason I'm celibate outside the job."

"So you've decided to try an old woman."

"Try? What are you talking about?"

"Your soul mark is shared by a geriatric so this is an opportunity for what?"

"Is that what you think this is, Olivia? You think that I'm taking advantage of our shared mark to convince you to be with me?"

Olivia took a deep breath to calm herself. The conversation was about to grow heated again, she knew.

"James, you truly could have almost any woman you want. I have watched you woo women no one else ever could. You could use your charms on someone far more suitable to your hopes and dreams. I'm too old for any of that now."

James' face was neutral. She couldn't tell what he was thinking as he listened.

"You're too old to be loved?"

Olivia sighed at his question. He was either being intentionally  obtuse or the bloody mark was making him stupid.

"James, I'm too old to give you what you want."

She sighed and finally released his hand. The warmth was gone in an instant leaving her with an odd, empty feeling.

"You think I want hearth and home? You think I want children?"

Olivia nodded in response to his questions.

But James shook his head.

"No."

He stood and walked around the small table then knelt next to her. He took one hand in between the two of his. Olivia felt the warmth of their connection again.

He looked up at her and she was nearly reminded of the evening Nigel proposed, only Nigel had far more confidence while James seemed almost afraid of her rejection.

"I want to know that you love me, just for me, and not because of this mark we share. And I want you to be sure that I love you because of everything you are; your strength; your courage; your ability to look the Prime Minister of England in the eye and tell him to go fuck himself."

Olivia laughed.

"I never said that."

"Well, I read between the lines."

His gaze had changed as he spoke. He was no longer afraid. But he was still pleading as he reached one hand up to her face.

"Let me show you, Olivia. Let me love you for however long we both have left so I can prove that I would want you even without this damn mark."

He slowly pulled her face toward his and Olivia surprised herself by allowing it. His lips finally brushed softly against hers.

"Please, Olivia."

He murmured as he began to gently kiss her. It was one of the most gentle kisses she'd ever experienced. Nigel had always been an exuberant kisser. He was good but she used to joke with him that he kissed like an American. All passion, little subtlety.

James kissed her as if he was tasting the finest wine. Slowly taking in the aroma then taking a small drink and swirling around his palette to experience the full flavor.

She felt his other hand move and rest on her right hip and she realized she'd turned in the chair. She raised her hands to his chest and he flinched as if he feared she'd push him away. So she slid her hand up his chest and around his neck to pull him closer.

He moaned and she could feel the relief flow through him. The hand on her face slipped around the back of her head and he sighed as he pushed his fingers into her short hair.

Slowly she felt herself become consumed by the moment. She slid her tongue against his lips wanting so much more. He tasted of nicotine and white rose tea.

He slid his other hand around to her back and pulled her closer to him. They were breathing heavily now and Olivia finally had to pull away to catch her breath. Only the look she saw in James' eyes wouldn't allow her to breathe. Love, hunger, desire, adoration, and contentment.

"I don't know where to go from here."

If she could have been more honest she actually would have told him she wasn't sure if she could take him in bed. She wasn't as young and spry as she'd once been. Between her hip and just general old age, well, it had been a along time since she and Nigel had given each other anything more than oral sex or hand jobs and Olivia suddenly found that she wanted it all with James.

"We don't have to go anywhere. I just want a chance to show you this is real."

He studied her and she feared he'd figure her fears out for himself.

"I can sleep in the spare bedroom, if you like. Of course, I'll have to move my bags."

"Your bags?"

"Yes, I already stowed them in your room."

Olivia's laugh was incredulous but not angry.

"I'm assuming there will be no reprimand because, well, I'm sure you knew I'd be me."

He had a smug look on his face and Olivia leaned in to kiss it off.

This time the kiss became more passionate and she did nothing to stop him as he gathered her in his arms and carried her to her bedroom.

He laid her gently on top of the covers, then lay by her side and moved his lips to her neck and his right hand to the top button on her blouse. He followed his fingers down her chest with his lips. Then he opened her blouse just to reveal her breasts. His eyes took in the lace and satin as if this was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He lowered his mouth to one mound and teased the nipple through the bra. He hummed as she groaned his name in pleasure.

He pushed open her blouse and lifted himself over her. As he moved his mouth to her other breast Olivia felt him gently rub his arousal against her thigh. For a moment she didn't care if this was because of the mark, it all felt too good. Then James body went rigid and he stopped. At first she wondered if he hadn't come to his senses, reminded himself of who he was and whom he could have besides an old, wrinkled woman, but then she felt his hand at her hip. It was shaking and the shaking quickly led to the rest of James body. He let out a strangled sound and Olivia thought he might be sick.

She felt his short breaths against her abdomen as he moved his face level with her hip. He slipped his hand beneath the elastic waist bands of both her skirt and panties and began to push them down.

There was nothing remotely sensuous about the movement. Bond sounded more like he was at the beginning of a panic attack.

He rolled Olivia over as he slid her clothes further down her legs. He took them completely off over her ankles. For a moment neither moved, barely even to breathe. James finally moved back over her and she could feel his shaking hand trace the scar of the wound.

"Does it hurt?"

He sounded weak. She'd never heard him sound this way. She hated it and wanted to tell him to stop. Neither of them were weak people and this small thing should not affect him like it was. He'd be unfit for service if it did.

That thought brought Olivia's attention to something she had never considered.

"James, are you still a 00?"

His answer was immediate.

"No."

She didn't roll over to look at him.

"What aren't you telling me?"

He took a deep breath and pressed his face gently against the skin above the scar.

"I retired."

Olivia wondered why Mallory hadn't said anything.

"When?"

He pressed his lips into the dip at the base of her spine.

"A month ago."

Olivia had to steady her breath and not only because of the news. James was sliding his hand slowly up between her legs and she began to ache with need.

"Why?"

James stood and Olivia feared he was angry with her line of questioning. But when she glanced over her shoulder she saw he was undressing himself.

"I didn't need them anymore."

Olivia turned on her side and watched him finish undressing.

"What do you mean?"

He sat down to pull off his pants then he lay back down facing her. Olivia was relieved that he was not upset at her questions, nor was he upset anymore about her scar.

"Once I found you, what need did I have of MI6. They have nothing to offer me anymore."

He pressed his lips against hers and kissed her slowly as he slid his hand around to her bra clasp and unhooked it. He helped her out of her shirt and bra. The way he looked over her body, so much lust and desire in his gaze, his cock visibly hardening, caused her to roll her eyes.

"Honestly, James. I'm not that..."

"Don't you dare say you aren't attractive."

His voice was soft and reverent. Still taking her in with his eyes, he added his hands, stroking slowly across long neglected, sensitive parts of her body. She tried to keep herself from reacting, but he only smirked.

"Always pushing back when I press against your boundaries."

He lowered his lips to her pulse point on her neck and sucked gently.

"Do you know what a turn in that is?"

Olivia's laugh was incredulous.

"No, actually, I don't."

"I bet Nigel did."

Olivia looked down at the top of James' head as he began to pepper kisses down her neck toward her breasts. She wasn't sure how she felt discussing her late husband while making love to another man.

"I bet you bowled him over the first time he tried to push up against those boundaries."

He took one breast into his hand and began to gently massage it, sliding his thumb over the nipple as he did so and making it far more pert than she thought possible anymore.

"I bet he stalked off and went home to lick his wounds, angry that you stood up to him."

He licked her opposite nipple and it had the same reaction. Her attempts at regulating her breathing were quickly failing.

"I bet it took him a long time to put aside his masculine sense of entitlement and realize what a rare jewel you are."

Olivia realized that James wasn't speaking of her husband at all, but of himself.

"But he was fortunate. He could convince you to view him as your equal."

Olivia gasped as James' hand ghosted over her sex.

"I never could. But that's OK. You were my superior at work and I couldn't push you out of that because you were perfect for it."

He trailed kisses down her abdomen and Olivia's pulse quickened.

"I loved you as M. I would have been happy to have that be as close as we ever got. To watch you work was possibly the most erotic act."

His breath brushed between her legs. Her breath was coming in short gasps. He hesitated only a moment before he pressed his lips against her.

"Oh, god. James."

She grabbed at the bedding beneath her in an attempt to hold onto a shred of her dignity. All hopes of doing so were shattered when he pressed his tongue between her folds and licked her slowly. She released a loud, and entirely involuntary, guttural groan. Her hands moved into his hair and her legs spread apart as far as she could force them without hurting herself.

For his part, James stopped his monologue and went to work, seemingly to get her to make that noise again. She didn't disappoint.

He was good, so good. Olivia almost felt as if she could get wet again, but that was physically impossible. The thought of that reality immediately doused her passion and she called out to James to stop.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

His voice was pleading and terrified.

All Olivia could do was shake her head back and forth in the pillow.

James began to place slow kisses along her body as he climbed back up to lay beside her and nuzzle his face against her neck.

"James, I'm an old woman. There are things I'm just not capable of."

He kissed her shoulder.

"It sounded to me that you were doing just fine."

She could feel his smile against her skin.

"I can't have any sort of intercourse without..."

"Lube."

James finished.

He lifted himself on to his elbow to look at her.

"Do you honestly think I didn't come prepared?"

He chuckled and kissed her gently in the lips before he rose from the bed and pick up his discarded pants. He reached into one pocket and pulled out an unopened bottle of lube. He set it on the side table and rejoined her in the bed. His hand skimmed across her skin from her shoulder to a breast. Her breath caught as he slowly rubbed his thumb across her nipple.

"And there's more where that came from."

He began to kiss her again and settled over her, his erection unabated by the pause in his pursuit of her pleasure. He touched and caressed and kissed her in all the right ways and places to bring her back to the lustful mess she'd been just moments earlier.

Her eyes were closed and her head thrown back when she felt him reach over to the table for the lube. She was almost disappointed. She didn't want this to be over so soon. She heard him open it and squeeze some into his hand. She was about to tell him to go slowly when she felt his finger slide between her folds. She gasped in surprise as her eyes opened. She expected a smirk and a smug look but his gaze was nothing but wanton. He watched her as he worked her into a near frenzy. When thought she would burst he slipped a finger inside her core and a scream tore out of her throat. His lips were on her mouth immediately swallowing the noise. He pressed his erection next to his hand and the stimulation caused her to orgasm. Her body jerked against his and his moan coursed through her body.

"God, Olivia."

James was panting as if he'd been the one to come but as Olivia's senses returned to her she soon realized it was because he was controlling his own reaction, holding back his own need for release.

"James, darling."

Because, well, hell, why not?

"James, please. I need you inside me."

His face was buried in the crook of her neck. The sweat she thought was only hers she now thought might mostly be his. He replied to her between heavy pants.

"I don't...want...to hurt you."

He pressed his lips to her shoulder and took a shuddering breath.

"Just take it slowly and you won't."

His next breath was deep and he exhaled sharply. She considered that this might be the problem.

"I can just use my hand, if you'd rather."

She reached between them and brushed her fingers across his head. She was rewarded with the sticky sensation of his pre-cum.

Without warning James flipped over onto his back and brought her along so she was lying on top of him. He adjusted her legs so she straddled him then he reached over for the lube.

His hands were shaking and his eyes were out of focus so Olivia took the small bottlr from him. As she opened it he lay his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. His face was a mask of concentration and Olivia made quick work of applying the lube. He whimpered as she did so. She wondered if he wouldn't come the instant she mounted him.

Placing her hands on his shoulders, Olivia lifted herself over him. He opened his eyes as he reached between them to line himself up with her.

Olivia had, as her work unfortunately had required her, watched James in action a handful of times. She'd never seen this look on his face. As he watched them join he seemed awestruck. Olivia would chalk it up to their marks, but she wasn't feeling the same. Oh, she was enjoying herself, but James looked as if all his dreams were finally coming true.

He moved his hands to her hips as he watched her slowly lower herself onto his shaft. Olivia thought of his earlier words, everyone he loved died, and they died horrible deaths.

Olivia knew death was inevitable but she'd been given a chance to help James live in a way he'd never thought possible.

Once she settled onto him she stilled and raised a hand to his face. He looked up at her and she saw so many emotions. The one that worried her was the fear. She returned his look with one of confidence, to let him know she was sure of what they were doing and, more importantly, she believed him. How couldn't she? This wasn't the way James was with women. Women had always been a means to an end, and Vesper, that bitch, had only made him more sure of that.

The fear began to subside and Olivia slowly began to ride him. He sighed and began to move with her.

"You feel so perfect around me. Do you feel it too?"

She'd never heard his voice sound like this, soft and loving.

"Yes, James."

She leaned down to kiss his lips and encourage him.

"Faster James."

She bucked her hips a little harder and he gasped.

"I won't break, James."

He opened his eyes and looked at her as if to gauge her honesty. He must have found the truth because he tightened his grip on her hips and began to increase his rhythm. Olivia met his pace and encouraged him further, her own voice barely recognizable to herself. God, she had never known such intense pleasure. Whether it was the mark or the lover, she didn't know, but she suspected the latter more than the former. If the former was true then people would be far more interested in finding their mate.

She felt herself starting to lose control again. James was watching her intently and she realized he was yet again waiting in her. It wasn't fair to him and she wouldn't have it.

"James, please, come for me."

"Olivia, I want..."

"Please, James. For me."

That seemed to finally do the trick and James threw his head back with a guttural, "Fuck, yes. God, Olivia," as he jerked into her and his body convulsed in his own orgasm.

He shifted her just so on top of him and she came unexpectedly. Then collapsed on top of him.

Their bodies were shaking, their sweat sticking them together. Both were gasping and trying to catch their breaths.

James ran his fingers through her hair as she rested on his chest. His other hand rubbed up and down her back slowly.

Finally, he sighed and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"I love you, Olivia. I truly hope you'll believe me."

Olivia nodded her head and mumbled, "yes," against his chest. She was worn out completely. Both the emotions and the physicality of their love making had made her far more tired than usual.

"I love you, as well, James."

That seemed to affect him and Olivia gave him a moment to compose himself, then she rolled to her side.

"I suppose I should like a bath now."

James look was pure lust.

"I suppose I should as well."

"Well, you probably already know it's big enough for two."

Olivia stood and began to walk toward the en suite, a length she knew she could make without her cane. She didn't hear James move so she turned to see if he hadn't fallen asleep.

His eyes were roaming her body, his gaze was predatory.

"You are so bloody beautiful."

Olivia smirked.

"In a moment I'm going to be bloody cold. Are you coming or not."

Her voice was commanding and not just because it seemed to be a turn on for him, but because it was the truth.

"Yes, ma'am."

He mock saluted her as he used to at MI6. Then rose off the bed.

"Well that was quick. If I'd known all I had to do to get you to obey me was ride you until you broke, I'd have done it a decade ago."

\---

James leaned back against the low slung chair he'd set up on the beach. He'd carried Olivia, who grumbled at the indignity, out to the sand. They'd planned to watch the sun set. She'd leaned back into him on the beach chair and he'd stroked her face until he noticed she'd fallen to sleep.

He watched the sky change into its nighttime robe of black and glitter and pulled the blanket up around Olivia's shoulders. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and breathed the scent of her shampoo. 

They'd spent the afternoon making love both in her bed and in her bath. It was just the beginning of the fulfillment of all his fantasies.

And yet, for all that, plus a month watching her before working up the nerve to come to her, he still dreaded falling to sleep tonight. This had happened too often in his dreams and he'd wake in a pleasant haze, only to be overcome with another round of grief.

Olivia shifted and mumbled something about melancholy and James huffed a laugh.

"Can tell what I'm thinking in your sleep now?"

He felt her take a deep breath and she curled up against him. She hummed an affirmative and reached her hand to take one of his.

"James, we've been given a chance that most never have. I know you're not the pessimistic type, except when it comes to relationships. I hope I can help change that."

James smiled and closed his eyes. He relaxed again and concentrated on her hand in his and the way her body was pressed against him. 

He knew he could spend their time together waiting for what he felt was inevitable, but what good would that be? 

Olivia hadn't had to allow this to happen. She could have stopped it, he'd have listened if she'd told him 'no' when he kissed her. But she had trusted that his love for her was real. He could trust her that whatever time they had together would make him glad to have taken this chance.

"You will, love. You will."

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so this started pure fluff and smut but I got to thinking how people like M and Bond would actually feel about having some sort of soul mark, I didn't think they'd too pleased. :)


End file.
